


All The Purity Of Heaven

by slidingsocks



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 8x23, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Men of Letters, Post Season/Series 08
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-22
Updated: 2013-05-22
Packaged: 2017-12-12 15:17:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/813018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slidingsocks/pseuds/slidingsocks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The angels fall, and somehow Sam <i>feels</i> it. Some kind of nebulous connection has been forged between him and heaven's forces, an unforeseen consequence of the Trials. It's powerful, but it leaves him as weak and drained as the Trials themselves did. As if that's not enough trouble, Castiel is gone, vanished into thin air. And Dean flounders in the middle, helpless, torn between the two people who need him most. </p><p>Heaven is empty, and all the angels are here.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All The Purity Of Heaven

**Author's Note:**

> My first Supernatural fic and my first fic under this new username! I have most of this work plotted out but not yet written, so we'll see how long it gets. I hope to update pretty regularly, but, again, we'll see. 
> 
> This fic will in the future contain scenes of violence, semi-graphic sexual content, and Charlie Bradbury being better than you. Turn back if any of those things aren't to your taste.
> 
> All comments and criticism welcome!

Dean didn’t ever really pray before Castiel. Maybe he did when he was little, before the fire, but he can’t remember for the life of him. The faith crap was always Sam’s domain, Sam who, before he grew up enough to realize that Dean noticed these things, silently mouthed prayers in the dark before falling asleep. Even _after_ Cas, Dean never had much time for God. Son of a bitch never lifted a damn finger for the Winchesters, did he? But Cas was there, Cas could be trusted -- and even later when he couldn’t be, Dean still found himself reaching out, hoping.

There were a lot of times Cas didn’t answer, and every time it felt like Dean was yelling into the void, calling to empty ears. He thought he knew what _alone_ was, in those moments.

He was wrong.

 _Castiel, damn it,_ he thinks, his hands tight in Sam’s shirt. _Cas, where are you? Tell me this isn't you. Damn it, tell me -- tell me you’re okay. Cas?_ _  
_

The night sky is bright with falling stars, and Dean’s prayer echoes in the abyss. He can _feel_ it, different than before. Before, he realizes, someone was always listening, even if they weren’t answering.

Now there’s just dial tone.

“Dean, _Dean_ ,” Sam says suddenly, gasping and clinging to him. “I can feel them. I can feel – all of them – hundreds – thousands –“

“Sam?” What the _hell_. Dean grips Sam’s chin, tries to force Sam to look at him, but Sam’s gaze is glued to the skies. His eyes are wide and manic, and his whole body is shaking in Dean’s grasp. “Sam! _Sam!_ ”

“I can – feel them –“ Sam’s voice abruptly gives out, but he doesn’t stop trying; his mouth keeps on forming words even as only a thin, broken whine comes out.

“Sam? Come on, snap out of it, man. _Sammy -- ”_  Dean shakes him by the shoulders, but it's no use. Sam continues to whisper garbled nonsense at the heavens for another minute, and then the crazed gleam fades from his eyes and they shut. All nine freaking yards of him go limp and heavy in Dean’s arms.

“Shit,” Dean says, staring down at his little brother. “ _Shit._ ”

His phone starts vibrating in his pocket. He tugs Sam to rest half in his lap while he fumbles for it, then flips it open. The dim light shines on Sam’s face, making his ashy pallor look even _worse_. The only thing that could make any of this better would be if – but no. The text is from Kevin, not Cas, and Dean swears angrily under his breath before reading it.

_things r getting weird come quick – kt_

Dean swears again before snapping the phone shut. He shoves it back into his pocket forcefully, and then he hesitates, unsure of his next move. He drags the back of his hand across his mouth, frowning.

The sky is clearer now. The blink-and-you-miss-it explosions of light have become less frequent, and now they could almost be mistaken for a normal lightning storm. Dean casts one last, desperate look up to the skies, searching, then scowls.

“Damn it, Cas,” he says. That’s all he has time for; Sam needs his attention _now_ , and if Cas does too, well, he is shit out of luck because Dean has no way of knowing that. Or where he is. Or how to find him.

The world is, apparently, going to hell again. There’s only one of Dean, and Cas is just going to have to wait.

 


End file.
